Bitches are victims, too

Content warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, gun violence and sexual assault.

“That bitch was at 21+ clubs all the time with a fake ID when she was 16. most dudes probably had no clue.”

“I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

“I tend to not believe a thing that comes out of her mouth.”

“She has had a lot of crazy shit happen in her life but she is also documented to milk said crazy situations for attention for far longer than necessary.”

All of these comments are in reference to Tana Mongeau’s allegations against Cody Ko, in which she claimed they engaged in sexual acts when she was 17 and he was 25. Mongeau is a popular YouTuber who found fame by posting “storytimes” in which she theatrically detailed botched hair salon trips, getting arrested in London, accidentally sexting the wrong person and other tales of the same wild variety. Mongeau’s latest endeavor is her podcast, “Cancelled,” in which she and her co-host, Brooke Schofield, famously dish out celebrity gossip. As a longtime viewer, the appeal of Mongeau’s work is its outrageous nature; there is a thrill in hearing about reckless Hollywood antics that I will most likely never experience. However, when Mongeau went on camera to discuss assault allegations, YouTube audiences struggled to believe her. Mongeau built her career and made millions of dollars off superficial, tongue-in-cheek acts like pretending to marry Jake Paul in 2019. As a result, viewers now seem unable to accept that she is also human, susceptible to genuine suffering like the rest of us.

In Mongeau’s case, it is clear that she has been discredited by the “perfect victim” myth: Victims must be morally righteous before and after an instance of sexual assault. Otherwise, they can be rightfully subjected to doubt, harassment or even punishment. Fan Yang, a research assistant at the University of Chicago and co-author of a recent study examining perception of victims, found that people steadily reserved compassion solely for those who they viewed as having good moral standing and status. Reading this study for the first time, I couldn’t imagine that I would play a part in perpetuating standards that are against my own values of inclusion, equity and listening to those in need. I have never publicly shamed a victim for coming forward or questioned their pain, so how could I be a part of the problem? But saying you support Christine Blasey Ford and Anita Hill or agreeing that a member of a fraternity who has committed a violent act should be removed from Fraternity & Sorority Life is the just tip of the iceberg. 

It is the day-to-day interactions and the thoughts you keep to yourself that quietly help the myth of the “perfect victim” stay afloat. In high school, a girl who made rude, impossible-to-forget comments about my appearance was deeply distressed by her parents’ divorce. She was combative with teachers, failing tests and clearly not getting enough sleep. In her eyes, you could see she was yearning for a hug and comfort. Upon hearing the news of her parents parting, I remember thinking, that sucks but I don’t care; she’s a bitch. The Germans even have a word for situations like this: “schadenfreude,” or “a feeling of pleasure or satisfaction when something bad happens to someone else.” Now, I certainly wasn’t celebrating the divorce of my high school foe’s parents, but I was choosing to ignore the emotional impact it had on her despite clear evidence of her pain. 

As I reflected upon my complicated relationship with that “bitch” in high school, I couldn’t help but wonder if something devastating — beyond parental divorce — had happened to her, would I have reached out? Would I have believed her? We always want to think of ourselves as doing the right thing when the time comes, but as Yang’s aforementioned studies show, I most likely would not have been an ally. My 14-year-old self saying, I don’t care, she’s a bitch, in my head causes no direct, external harm. It does, however, create minuscule cracks in the sisterhood. To me, sisterhood is a synonym for community and solidarity among cisgender women, transgender women and those facing oppression for their space on the gender spectrum (most often, those who are feminine-presenting). The power of sisterly solidarity lies in the equitable access to care and opportunity. Yet when women engage with name-calling and categorizing others, cracks begin to ripple through our community, allowing apathy to seep in and contaminate all our sympathetic impulses until we too buy into the “perfect victim” myth. 

The woman who is the “perfect victim” will never be a reality, but the men who remain in positions of power because of her rumored existence surround us every day. Shaun Varsos, an abuser and murderer, initially roamed free despite his wife, Marie Varsos, contacting authorities multiple times with evidence of abuse, including walking into the police station an hour after Varsos strangled her until she was unconscious. She had bruises on her neck and an audio recording for proof. Additionally, the local police gave Marie a Lethality Assessment Protocol test which evaluates the likelihood of serious and fatal injuries for domestic violence victims. Marie’s answers indicated she was very likely to die at the hands of her husband. Yet, Varsos remained free and Marie went home unprotected. Marie needed a sympathetic ear, a community beyond the family home she fled to. She needed to be believed. Not a single member of her community — especially those in the bureaucratic systems she turned to — went up to bat for her. A month after Marie went to the police, Varsos murdered her and her mother, Debbie Sisco. In her last moments, Marie was still searching for help. She stood on her neighbor’s lawn talking to 911 dispatchers while she attempted to defend herself from her husband. Nevertheless, in death, Marie continues to be an imperfect victim because she receives criticism for her course of action. One online comment says, “You can’t just go hang out at your mom’s house if your ex threatens to kill you.” Years of qualifying sympathy for others in our heads — tallying reasons why one is not deserving of our kindness or consideration — eventually erodes care for those in our community until we are so callous to one another that no woman is safe.

The ripple effect and societal consequences go beyond domestic violence. In the context of American medicine alone, women’s overlooked pain results in greater health care costs and a maternal death rate that surpasses every other developed nation. Women of Color, particularly Black women, disproportionately face higher maternal death rates. Correspondingly, the rules of the “perfect victim” are more roughly applied to women of Color. A recent example is the domestic violence case involving Megan Thee Stallion and Tory Lanez, who was charged and subsequently found guilty for shooting Megan Thee Stallion in the foot.

Megan Thee Stallion told Vogue how important the outcome of the trial was, saying, “It was more than just vindication for me, it was a victory for every woman who has ever been shamed, dismissed, and blamed for a violent crime committed against them.”

Nonetheless, the media still gives undue attention to jokes and conspiracy theories that claim she was never actually shot. Most recently, members of Nicki Minaj’s fanbase, the Barbz, use Megan Thee Stallion’s squabbles with Minaj as a justification for their insensitivity toward Megan Thee Stallion’s trauma.

One fan tweeted, “There is absolutely nothing Nicki Minaj, the greatest femcee ever, wants from Megan, a bitch who has to sell herself as a victim to get respect.” Megan Thee Stallion might be a “bitch” to Nicki in the eyes of her fans, but this does not mean she deserves a complete lack of support in the aftermath of domestic violence. 

I would be lying if I said I do not live in fear that one day I will not be seen, heard or helped by the community around me in my time of need. More than a violent situation itself, I fear the lethality of not being believed. A sisterhood with fierce, unremitting sympathy could change the trajectory of — and save — the lives of many. A simple start is seeing those around you with their full humanity, even if they are bitches — because chances are you’re a bitch from someone else’s point of view, and one day you might need them to see you, too. 

Statement Columnist Mary-Kate Mahaney can be reached at mmahaney@umich.edu.

Related articles